Penn Relays easy to love, but the price to be paid for success or failure can be overwhelming

The Penn Relays occupy a very special place in the heart of almost anyone who has ever wandered into Franklin Field on the final weekend of April.

It's easy to love the massive and ancient relay carnival, now in its 120th year, with its dynamic environment, its unique camaraderie and its generous but intense spirit of competition.

It's what brings track people back year after year, decade after decade, 50 years in the case of East Stroudsburg University coach Chris Merli.

To watch the medalists of the women's hammer throw shake hands with and thank the event's officials in a charming little ceremony is to step back into an athletic time machine, when civility, not conflict, ruled sports

"Only at Penn," said Lafayette senior Rachel Pena, who was one of those happy award-winners Thursday.

But if Penn is easy to love, she can be a harsh mistress, too.

It's precisely because the success that can be achieved at Penn tastes so sweet that the disappointment becomes so bitter.

The flip side of the sparkle in the eyes of East Stroudsburg senior Chris Schneider, who used Penn's ineffable atmosphere to set a school record in the 5,000-meter race Thursday night was the unutterable sadness of seeing Voorhees senior Anthony Capone, who dropped a baton in Friday's 3,200 relay, alone with his thoughts, standing at a railing staring out into space with bowed head from Franklin Field's upper deck afterwards.

It may be true that adversity builds character and defeat teaches more than victory, but seeing a dedicated and accomplished young man in that much pain can make even the most hardened old cynic wish another way existed to achieve the same goals.

"Penn is tough," said Capone's teammate and classmate Sam DeFabrizio.

The anything-goes starts to the distance relays and races at Penn -- Voorhees' Chris Thompson called them "spikes-flying", and indeed rugby matches can offer less contact -- can test any athlete's mettle, and for every one who fights through the crowd there's one left behind like Capone was, with an elbow in the chest and zero glowing memories from Penn.

But athletes expose themselves to such potential agony because the highs are so high.

Just listen to Schneider, who set the ESU 5,000-meter school record Thursday night when you may have been in bed.

"Usually when I run the 5K it's 4 p.m., or 10 a.m.; 10 p.m. was surreal," he said. "It was really ideal conditions, with about a fifth of the crowd. It reminded me of cross country. It was a little mind-boggling."

Penn's highs, such as watching Columbia's awe-inspiring Olivia Baker run a 2:02.55 800 split in carrying her team to the 3,200-meter title, can take your breath away. But the price paid for those moments is paid by tens, dozens, hundreds of athletes whose hopes and dreams are dashed on the unforgiving surfaces of Franklin Field. By reaching for the former, athletes expose themselves to the latter.